‘One Bad Beaner’
In the Land of Race Car Ya-Yas, the Land Where Ye Can’t Change Lanes— the land where large fuzzy dice hang proudly, like testicles, from off of rearview mirrors— there lived a man who lost his name on the wall playing Tic-Tac-Toe (props Zack de la Rocha). And these art the descendents of the Man Who Lost His Name On the Wall Playing Tic-Tac-Toe:

The Man Who Lost His Name On the Wall Playing Tic-Tac-Toe begat Jehonadab. And Jehonadab begat Mr Know-It-All. And Mr Know-It-All begat Zair. And Zair begat Zibiah the Dog-Faced Boy.

And little Pantaloons begat Sil’la the Eunuch, and so ended the line of Sil’la.

But his couser begat Jozachar. And Jozachar begat Fartacus. And Fartacus begat Gath. And Gath begat the Man Who Invented the Machine That Doth Go ‘Ping!’. And the Man Who Invented the Machine That Doth Go ‘Ping!’ begat Shimeath.

And Shimeath begat Dr D. And Dr D begat Mil’lo. And Mil’lo begat Duke Lion. And Duke Lion begat Shomer. And Shomer begat Freedan the Dark Accountant. And Freedan the Dark Accountant begat Amitai. And Amitai begat Gath-hepher, Texas Redneck, who was elected President by the Supreme Court.

And Gath-hepher, Texas Redneck begat the Man Who invented the Paper Shredder. And the Man Who invented the Paper Shredder begat Enrahon. And Enrahon begat Shallum the Roots Radical. And Shallum the Roots Radical begat Menahem. And Menahem begat Gadi, who was found guilty of Attempted Music, and so was sentenced to life without parole penning songs for the Majors. And so he got his revenge by inventing ‘Bubblegum-’ and ‘Tween-’ Pop, and he died a hated man.

And Gadi begat Pul. And Pul begat Mr Wizard. And Mr Wizard begat Zadok the Mad Bomber. And Zadok the Mad Bomber begat Arieh. And Arieh begat Tiglath-pileser, who was the father to all who pop Self-Esteem Balloons. And Tiglath-pileser begat Hoshe’a. And Hoshe’a begat Elah the Hooker.

And it came to pass that one day Jason set sail on a ship from the coast. ’Twas to be a three hour tour, but a mighty storm came upon him, blowing him totally off course, so that at last he came to be shipwrecked on the Island of Mu.

And the Islanders didst greet him, in hopes that he might come bearing gum. But alas, Jason had no gum, and this didst confuse the Islanders.

‘No phone! no lights! no motor-car! not a single luxury!’ cried Jason, ‘Like Robinson Crusoe, ’tis as primitive as can be!’

Such were the lamentations of Jason.

But this was to be the least of Jason’s problems. For he had angered the Islanders, first by not bringing any gum, then by disparaging their fair island.

And so Chief Boombox decreed that Jason was to be bound and taken to be sacrificed to the spirit of the volcano, for it had been a while since they threw the Brian in and toasted his ass.

And it came to pass that as Jason was being led to his death, that the Dudes didst return by way of the Spooky Door.

‘Yo! Yo! Yo! Yo!’ quoth Richard, ‘What it is, muthafuckas!’

‘Oh shit! Here cometh Richard!’ quoth Jennifer as she let the Dudes pass. ‘Dost this mean we have to leave?’

And Derrick was afraid, very afraid, and didst vanish from their midst.

And everyone else was totally confusticated.

‘Ay-ay-ay!’ cried Jason, ‘ ’Tis a robot Santa! We art all doomed!’

‘Wait!’ spake the God of Being Zenfully Clean (for thou’rt not fully clean unless thou’rt Zenfully clean!), ‘for we wouldst have words with this man!’

But the Islanders didst ignore the God of Being Zenfully Clean.

And they were about to tosseth Jason into the volcano, when the God of Fat Blunts said unto them: ‘For the sake of the Son of the Hawai’ian King Kaméhaméha, Spartan him!’

And he didst give them gum.

‘ ’Tis Ackward-boy!’ cried Chief Boombox as he saw Scoot. ‘The Son of the Hawai’ian King Kaméhaméha returneth!’

And there was much rejoicing.

And the Islanders didst release Jason, and he was greatly relieved.

Spake the God of Raleigh Soliloquies: ‘Thou’rt a little late, Jason, but if thou proveth thyself worthy, thou shalt join the Dudes and help them performeth whatever we ask of thee next. Ye know, save the world, bringeth us Chinese takeout, retrain miscreant toasters to help the poor… stuff like that.’

‘Thou hast a very good question, Jason,’ spake the God of Undisclosed Locations. ‘Hmmm… Thou must either doeth the Hustle in the presence of the Islanders, as an apology for thy cultural ignorance in not bringing gum, or thou must learn and perform a scene from a Madonna video, complete with costume, and all sexual innuendoes. And again, with these Islanders as thy witnesses.’

‘Well,’ spake the God of Living For Today, ‘unlike some other religions, Hondo doth not force itself upon others. For Non-Interference is the Prime Directive. These people art Keepers of the Sacred Boombox and the totem of Otis and the Gods of Ska-Core, as was brought to them by the Prophet Ax-May, or something…’

And so the Islanders were left alone, save for occasional visitors bearing gum, and woe unto those who didst not bringeth it!

And so they didst tarry there on the Island of Mu for many days, and the Dudes didst hang ten and haveth a wild time on the island. And they didst celebrate the Feast of Maximum Occupancy early to celebrate their victory against The Man.

And there was much rejoicing.

And it came to pass that the Gods of Hondo were stuffing Jesus back into his pet-porter. They didst wield whips and chairs, and said unto him: ‘Bad Messiah! Get back in thy pet-porter!’

And after they had finished putting him back in his place, the Red Phone didst ring.

‘Well,’ spake the God of Accidentally-Elected Officials, ‘who was it?’

‘He didst not say,’ spake the God of Magic, ‘but he sayeth that our Pocket Poodle and the Pig-Stinging Jellyfish CD is finally in!’

‘Then we art off!’ spake the God of Anti-Gravity Chocolate, and the Gods of Hondo didst vanish from their own midst.

And so it came to pass that the Gods of Hondo didst appear before the Dudes as Perfectly Normal Beasts, and the God of Nuclear Underpants said unto them: ‘Jason David Wilkie Parrish, it hath been six-to-eight weeks; we have even received the Pocket-Poodle and the Pig-Stinging Jellyfish CDs we didst order. Hast thou yet prepared for thine initiation?’

‘Oy…’ spake the God of Super Blue Shit. ‘Very well. We, the Gods of Hondo, shalt grant thee more time, and as a token of good faith, we shall grant thee conditional membership in the Dudes, with full Dudehood pending the completion of thine appointed task.

‘No more shalt thou be known as Jason Parrish. From henceforth, thy name shalt be Loki Amaya.’

‘Anyhoo,’ spake the God of Being Pretty Fly (for a Rabbi), ‘We have not yet thought up a position for thee, but we shalt probably have that worked out by the time we have a new name for Pookie. Or perhaps by the time thou hast thy Madonna routine prepared, eh, Loki?’

‘Si!’ quoth Loki Amaya.

And so the God Soulful Farts (unless they art trapped under couch cushions, in which case they wouldst fall under the power of Lord Derrick) and the God of Odnoh vanished from their midst.

(props
Nytrydr/Green Mile
and a shout out to y’all who didst partake of the original Hondo Mad Lib!)